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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25819459">To Our Eternity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_s/pseuds/wayward_s'>wayward_s</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Seijoh Week 2020! [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant AND Canon Divergent, Crystal Tears AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Past Tense, Present Tense, Referenced Death, Ruisekibyou AU, Slow Burn, Spoilers for Haikyuu Manga, Underage Drinking, mentions of injury, no beta we die like (redacted)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:47:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,639</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25819459</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_s/pseuds/wayward_s</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Issei promises Takahiro forever.</p><p>But 'forever' is <i>impossible</i>, in more ways than one.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hanamaki Takahiro &amp; Iwaizumi Hajime &amp; Matsukawa Issei &amp; Oikawa Tooru, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Seijoh Week 2020! [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903042</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To Our Eternity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>DISCLAIMER!<br/>i did not come up with the ruisekibyou disease! i was sent the <a href="https://twitter.com/granveIIe/status/1282683851337277440?s=20">translation</a> of <a href="https://twitter.com/Wira_ekitai/status/1281850046648999943?s=20">this tweet</a>! </p><p>PLEASE support the original creator because they worked so hard on these concepts and deserve all of the credit for inspiring this chaos</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s no real moment Issei considers to be the ‘start’.</p><p>No tell-tale sign. </p><p>No epiphany. </p><p>No ‘come-to-Jesus’ realisation.</p><p>It just <em> happened </em>.</p><p>That’s how life is, he tells himself. Sometimes you start walking, and you follow a path, and you don’t know where that path will lead you. And then you find yourself in unfamiliar territory, and when you look back you have no idea which direction you actually came from.</p><p>The only thing you can do in those moments is move forward.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>He entered his life in their final year of middle school; the new kid from somewhere else in the country that found himself at a no-name school in the inner city of Sendai.</p><p>It wasn’t often that people transferred, especially when they were so close to graduating and moving to high school. Sometimes things couldn’t be helped, Issei understood that. </p><p>Didn’t mean he couldn’t find it weird.</p><p>For most of that first day back, he watched as his classmates rambled on about the news that fell into their laps. From basic observation, New Kid was a boy, a ‘Cute’ and ‘Tall’ Boy to be exact. Issei refrained from adding any of his own commentary to the mix of discussions, even when some of the girls threw themselves into his classroom during recess to tell him that he would be great friends with New Kid.</p><p>(“He’s tall! Like you! And Hirakawa-kun said he's going to convince him to join the volleyball team!”)</p><p>Issei nodded, silent, unable to tell if his classmates were <em> genuinely </em> interested in him having friends or if they were simply pulling at straws to try and get the New Kid to feel comfortable. </p><p>In reality, Issei didn’t care much.</p><p>What was the point of befriending someone who would probably end up leaving you for something better anyway? </p><p>It wasn’t until their lunch break on that first day that Issei finally caught a glimpse of New Kid.</p><p>And it wasn’t as though Issei was <em> actively </em>looking for the kid either. </p><p>But even <em> he </em> could admit that it was incredibly hard to ignore someone when they purposefully walked up to where he was sitting behind the gym, casting a shadow over him when all Issei wanted to do was laze about and take a nap before his last two periods of the day. </p><p>Warmth gone, Issei pried an eye open and took a look at the person blocking his sunbeam. </p><p>Stood before him was New Kid in all his fish-out-of-water glory, with the <em> gakuran </em> buttoned up all the way to the top and his incredibly pale brown hair flattened down across his forehead. New Kid was definitely tall too, maybe a few centimetres shorter than Issei when he didn’t slouch. But the baby fat that hung to his cheeks offset the imposition of his height.</p><p>And if the slight puffiness of his cheeks wasn’t enough to offset whatever predisposition Issei had about him, the bento wrapped in a cloud patterned <em> furoshiki </em>certainly had.</p><p>How New Kid found him tucked behind the gymnasium was beyond him. </p><p>“You mind if I sit with you?” New Kid asked, dark brown eyes locking with Issei’s as he inquired. There was a slight crack in a few of the syllables, causing him to cough in order to clear his throat. </p><p>Issei gave him another once over and then shrugged his shoulders.  “Sure. You already walked all the way over here.”</p><p>New Kid nodded and dropped onto the ground opposite him, slightly off centre so that the sun washed back over Issei’s body. He sat in a loose criss-cross, knee bent with his left foot planted firmly against the concrete beneath them, his right tucked underneath his thigh, all before he began unpacking his lunch.</p><p>There was silence between them, Issei opting to close his eyes and resume his nap while New Kid ate. The only things disturbing the air around them was the occasional distant yell from another student, or the sounds of a car driving past the school on the main road.</p><p>And there was a comfort in having company, if but for a moment.</p><p>But soon enough, Issei could practically <em> feel </em> the kid’s stare burn holes into the side of his face.</p><p>And the cultural need to be polite won out.</p><p>“How’re you finding it?”</p><p>Issei took his time opening his eyes again, blinking at the change in lighting before he focused on the kid opposite him. He nodded, the back of his hand covering his mouth while he chewed “S’okay. Everyone’s nice enough.”</p><p>He nodded. “No prospective friends yet?”</p><p>“It’s a little hard when everyone has someone.” New Kid scoffed a little too quickly, finally swallowing his mouthful of rice. “What’s your excuse?”</p><p>Issei choked on his spit, hitting his fist against his sternum to clear the blockage in his throat.</p><p>It wasn’t as if it was a conscious <em> choice </em>. Rather, it was a repercussion of being the kid with a naturally unamused face combined with the fact he hit puberty a little earlier than everyone and kept growing in height at a pace that made his own mother’s head spin.</p><p>And he <em> had </em> <em> friends </em> . The Volleyball Team hung out after practice every now and then. It wasn’t his fault it was hard to connect with people outside of the sport. Volleyball was all he was good at, was the only thing he really put any importance into. Things were simpler like that, and it was better for him to be focused on a sport than something <em> actually </em> dangerous.</p><p>Regardless, his mother warned him that his one track mind would bite him in the butt one day. </p><p>Little did she know that the side effect of his one track mind was also why his teacher’s considered him a “joy to have in the class”. </p><p>(Quiet. No friends. Anxiety. The Usual.) </p><p>And a part of Issei knew he should have been a<em> little </em> offended at the gall of New Kid. But the look in his eye - the playful mischief that glinted across the brown iris - was enough to confirm to Issei that New Kid understood him, even just a little. </p><p>“Hard to make friends.” He admitted, propping himself up against the wall he was resting against. “Not much of a talker.”</p><p>“Yeah? No kidding.” He placed the box down on the ground, chopstick laid across the lid before he extended a hand out. “I’m Hanamaki Takahiro, Class 3-3.”</p><p>Issei stared at the open palm for a moment before he leant forward and slotted his hand in place to return the handshake. “Matsukawa Issei. 3-2.”</p><p>Their hands stayed connected for a moment, joined in a firm shake, before they dropped to each boy’s side. As he drew his hand back, wiping the palm against his uniform pants to rid himself of the dirt that lingered on the damp skin. </p><p>Hanamaki’s lips lifted up into a slight smile, returning his attention to his packed lunch.</p><p>Silence, again.</p><p>But this time a little more uncomfortable. </p><p>Issei cleared his throat. </p><p>“So. You like volleyball?”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Hanamaki did, in fact, like volleyball.</p><p>(He was a Falcons fan. Issei could trust him.)</p><p>And their conversation lasted the rest of their break and ended with Issei making sure Hanamaki received an <em> actual </em>invitation to join the Volleyball Team.</p><p>A few days later, the Boys Volleyball Team held their first practice of the year, filled with a mixture of familiar faces and fresh blood for the try-outs. </p><p>Issei watched from the corner of his eye at the main tryouts, watching as the mix of first and second years ran the required drills while the coaches watched them intently. Turning his head back to the front, he kept his gaze trained on one of his teammates and they prepared to serve and start their practice game. From across the net, Hanamaki met his eyes for a moment before clasping his hands behind his head to protect from a stray serve. </p><p>The ball went up and Hanamaki’s try-out began.</p><p>After a few rallies, it was clear that Hanamaki was a good spiker. </p><p>Not as good as some of the other kids Issei versed over the years - nothing like that one Shiratorizawa ace, or the grumpy looking one from Kitagawa Daiichi - but good enough that he was able learn a few things to improve his technique. </p><p>He had good game senses, and when Issei did have an opportunity to block one of his spikes, there was a little more force behind it for someone of his stature.</p><p>What was more impressive was how easily he moved, jumping and running with a practiced grace that really didn’t make sense for someone his size. Hanamaki wasn’t the fastest person Issei ever had to block against, but the fluidity of his movements was enough to trip him up once or twice.</p><p>It was a nice change of pace. Unexpected, but welcomed. And it earned the transferee a place in the team’s roster, even if he was going to start out on the bench.</p><p>They left the club room together, tracksuit jackets zipped part-way up before they started to leave the school grounds. </p><p>“Which way do you need to go?” Issei asked, adjusting the backpack strap that hung from his left shoulder. Hanamaki looked around briefly. </p><p>“This way,” he nudged his head to the left, “I’m pretty sure the train station I used this morning is this way.”</p><p>Issei nodded. “Same. I take the Nanboku.”</p><p>“I’m on the Tōzai.”</p><p>“Nice. How’d you find the team?”</p><p>Hanamaki furrowed his brow in thought. “Everyone seems nice. It’ll be fun to play this year.”</p><p>“Did your old school have a team?”</p><p>A pause.</p><p>“Yeah. I joined in my second year. We had a big roster in Tokyo so I didn’t get to play often.”</p><p>Issei hummed out a noise of understanding before his eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar sign. “Cool. Want food? My treat.”</p><p>Looking back at the boy next to him, Issei barely caught a glimpse of the thoughtful expression that adorned his face. But it was gone as quickly as it came. </p><p>A trick of the light, most likely.</p><p>“Sure. I’ll treat you next time.”</p><p>The taller boy agreed, forcing his mind to stop pondering the look on Hanamaki’s face when the characteristic grin appeared to replace it. </p><p>(‘Hesitation', he decided, was more fitting. )</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“I’ve never asked, but why’d you move out this way?” </p><p>An innocuous question, really. </p><p>Harmless. </p><p>The pair had known each other for three months at that point, entering a comfortable yet easy routine not long after Hanamaki’s first full week at the school. They met up at the train station in the mornings and walked into school together, then spent their lunch breaks behind the gymnasium - Issei sleeping while Hanamaki kept watch for teachers. After school and after practice on the days it ran, they would walk to the nearby convenience store ahead of the rest of the team and take turns buying snacks for each other to eat on their respective train trips home; Issei with his usual onigiri and Calpico combination, Hanamaki with some type of sweet he had been craving a few hours earlier. </p><p>Issei knew the bare bones basics of his friend’s (and yes, he considered him a friend) life, while Hanamaki had been eager to question and prod for information wherever possible. </p><p>So to Issei, it really was only fair that he get <em> some </em> answers from Hanamaki about his life before he moved to Sendai. And with the light-haired boy’s eagerness to talk about Issei’s life, he assumed that the former would not be abject to talking about something that was legitimately interesting to him.</p><p>But as the question left his mouth, Issei didn’t miss the way Hanamaki paused, didn’t miss the way panic briefly flared up in his usually calm eyes. </p><p>Issei bit down on his onigiri, quickly chewing to fill the gap in conversation as he waited for an answer. </p><p>“Parents got divorced.” Came the reply, voice cracking on a sound or three. </p><p>“Ah, ok. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna.” He bobbed his head in a curt nod, free hand lifted up to wave at the boy to stop. “My parents are divorced as well, just me and my dad out here, and I only visit mum on holidays. I just wanted to see if you had, like, a cool story for moving. Like, you got into a fight and got expelled, or something.”</p><p>It took a few seconds for the tension in Hanamaki’s shoulders to fade away, and that paled expression warmed up again. “I wish. I should have punched one kid though. He was annoying. Always cheated whenever we played in a match, but sucked up to the umpires and got away with his cheating.”</p><p>Issei let out a low whistle. “Hey, maybe you can kick his ass on the court at the Spring Tournament. We probably have a shot if we don’t get seeded with Kitagawa or Shiratorizawa.”</p><p>“Y’know,” Hanamaki shifted the plastic bag holding his snack from one hand to the other, “I don’t know why I thought you’d be a little more enthusiastic about volleyball, but the, uh - what’s the word - <em> defeatist </em>, attitude makes more sense.”</p><p>“Not a <em> defeatist </em> .” Issei grumbled through another mouthful of rice and salmon roe. “I’m <em> realistic </em> . You haven’t played against the teams from those schools. They’re <em> crazy </em>. I hate going up against them.”</p><p>A scoff passed through the spiker’s lips, bemused at Issei’s immediate defence. “Well now I really hope we can play against them if it means seeing you with actual expressions on your face.”</p><p>“Blank is an expression.”</p><p>“And you <em> wonder </em> why you never had friends before me.”</p><p> His eye twitched, and without blinking he shoved his shoulder into Hanamaki’s, growling out a half-hearted “Shut up” before they continued to walk to the station. </p><p>If Hanamaki saw the way Issei’s lips curved up into a feeble smile at the fact he considered him a ‘friend’ back, then he didn’t say anything. Instead he wiped his hands on his track jacket before diving into his bag to eat his cream puff.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They didn’t make it to Nationals.</p><p>They <em> barely </em> made it to the semifinals.</p><p>And while the rest of the third years on his team were sad, Issei wasn't all too bothered. They were up against that Kitagawa Daiichi team with the insane setters. There was no way they would pull through. Especially when the Kitagawa setter was at the top of his game from the ready set. </p><p>In the middle of the team meeting, Issei noticed Hanamaki was nowhere to be seen.</p><p>With a quick wave to their team captain, Issei began to search the arena’s hallways for any sign of their pale-haired teammate. The day was winding down, and less people crowding and lingering in the hallways meant it was easier for the brown-haired boy to find his beanpole of a friend. </p><p>It wasn’t until the third lap of the hallways circling the main courts that they crossed paths, the spiker stumbling out of one of the men’s bathrooms, patting his forehead with the back of his hand.</p><p>“Hanamaki.” Issei called out, watching as the former slowly - too slowly - turned his head to the right to face the oncoming figure. </p><p>As Issei approached, he let the impassive expression slip as he quickly looked over the boy from top to bottom. </p><p>His uniform was a little unkempt, the collar of his jersey ruffled in the back while the front was damp with water (sweat?). Both hands were similarly dripping ever so slightly onto the linoleum floor beneath them, as were the tips of his hair that were pushed back by slick hands running through them. But it was the closer inspection Issei took as they stood a little less than half a metre apart that made him concerned. </p><p>Skin an almost sickly yellow tinge, and the dark circles under his eyes a little more prominent than there were earlier that day. Sweat pooled at his hairline and dripped down the sides of his face, and Hanamaki quickly wiped them away with the neckline of his jersey. And there was a look in his eye, again, not dissimilar to the one that appeared when he asked about the former’s move a month prior. </p><p>Issei frowned.</p><p>Hanamaki had been <em> fine </em> ten minutes ago. </p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>The spiker nodded, standing up to his full height - shoulders back, chest out. With this posture, he was almost level in height with the blocker. “Just a little dizzy after the match, nothing too serious.”</p><p>Except being lightheaded after a match was never a good thing, nor was it something someone should ever take lightly. Issei reached out, hands raised in front of him to steady the spiker when he dipped forward ever so slightly.</p><p>“You don’t look that great, Hanamaki.”</p><p>“I’m fine-”</p><p>“We can go to the First Aid Station-”</p><p>“I’m <em> fine </em>,” he interjected, eyes blinking quickly to clear the water still lingering in them, words drawn out into an almost childish whine, “I just needed a bit of a time out... Washed my face, I’m good now.”</p><p>Hanamaki’s hands clenched at his sides, balling into fists and until the knuckles went white before they relaxed. Issei looked back up into the spiker’s eyes. Hanamaki’s gaze was firm, unwavering. </p><p>Even if his body trembled ever so slightly.</p><p>But Issei relented, dropping his hands and stepping to the side so they could walk side by side. “If you say so. We gotta head back to the bus, Coach’ll be waiting for us.”</p><p>Hanamaki nodded and began to walk forward, a slight sway in his step that Issei purposefully ignored for the spiker’s sake. </p><p>As they walked side by side, Issei kept his hands in his pockets, eyes darting from front to corner as he kept tabs on the spiker. </p><p>Still stable. </p><p>No wobbling. </p><p>His forehead and cheeks shone in the fluorescent light of the hallway.</p><p>Water, he assumed. </p><p>
  <em> Must have missed a spot. </em>
</p><p>Issei threw his jacket over the spiker’s head, not bothering to look at his friend’s reaction.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Issei decided to go to Aoba Johsai for high school.</p><p>Hanamaki decided the same.</p><p>They never spoke to each other about it. </p><p>Instead they ran into each other the day of the entrance exam.</p><p>They ate an early dinner after the exams finished to celebrate their probable failures.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They were both accepted.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Much to Issei’s chagrin, he and Hanamaki weren’t organised into the same class. A selfish desire, but Issei preferred having a friend in his class instead of having to get along with a completely new batch of people. <em> Especially </em> when it was clear that Hanamaki was the more sociable one of the duo.</p><p>But it didn’t matter much when both of them were more anxious to get to try outs for the volleyball team than they were to make friends.</p><p>Aoba Johsai’s culture around volleyball - sport in general, really - was a lot richer than what Issei had grown used to at his older school. </p><p>Issei squinted at the lightly curled hair of the teen who walked in, chin parallel to the ground and shoulders pulled back ever so slightly. The confidence that surrounded him was both compelling and annoying. And what irked Issei even more was the fact he <em> recognised </em> the kid almost immediately from the second he walked in.</p><p>Kitagawa Daiichi’s Star Setter, Oikawa Tooru. He won the Best Setter Award in their final year of middle school and, apparently, had a promising future ahead of him.</p><p>Hanamaki nudged his ribs lightly, jutting his chin in the setter’s direction. “Isn’t that-”</p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>“Huh.” Hanamaki clicked his tongue and kept scanning the gym from where they stood in the corner with the other hopeful first years. “At least we’ll have him setting for us.”</p><p>Issei reluctantly agreed. As much as he disliked Oikawa when they versed each other, there was no denying he was a skilled player. Having him on their side wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.</p><p>The pair kept looking at where Oikawa stood from the door, watching as his facade faded as he greeted some of their upperclassmen before walking towards the big group of his classmates. As he turned his head to face forward, his eyes widened in surprise as his gaze landed on-</p><p>
  <em> Nah, he wasn’t looking at- </em>
</p><p>“Oh~ I remember you!” Oikawa Tooru exclaimed, wagging a finger in Issei’s direction as he jogged over to where he stood. He skidded to a halt in front of him, arm still extended and almost poking his sternum. “You were that nasty blocker in the semifinals last year that marked Iwa-chan!”</p><p>Issei’s eyes widened at the sudden call out, but found himself nodding along, his mind falling back to that semifinals match the year before. “Matsukawa Issei.”</p><p>Oikawa turned his attention to the person standing next to him, eyes squinted as he tried to recollect whatever memory he could associate with him. A second later, he clicked his fingers.</p><p>“And you’re from the same team! Number 17, right? You had that really good rebound in the third set!”</p><p>“Name’s Hanamaki Takahiro, but Number 17 works too, I guess.”</p><p>“Who’d have thought we would end up at the same school, right? Small world! I’m Oikawa Tooru! Let’s get along, yeah?”</p><p>“Sure,” Hanamaki agreed, deadpan, “it’ll be easy.”</p><p>Issei stopped himself from laughing at him. </p><p>“Did you choose Aoba Johsai for the volleyball team too, Mattsun? The current third years have a really formidable blocking strategy that’s similar to how you play, right?”</p><p>Issei frowned. </p><p>He wasn’t used to nicknames.</p><p>“‘Mattsun’? That’s cute.”</p><p>“It suits him right? Doesn’t it Makki-Makki-”</p><p>A hand flew out of nowhere, clocking the setter square in the skull.</p><p>“Don’t go giving people nicknames when you don’t know them, Shittykawa!”</p><p>‘Shittykawa’ hunched over, hands flying to cradle the back of his head from where he had been hit. The teen next to him - intense eyes, defined jaw - quickly looked back at the middle school friends and bowed his head in apology.</p><p>
  <em> Where had he come from? </em>
</p><p>“Sorry about him, he doesn’t know his limits. Feel free to ignore him if he bothers you.”</p><p>Hanamaki was the first to respond, waving a hand and looking all too amused at the way the setter was crumpled on to the floor, bravado nowhere to be seen.</p><p>“No it’s okay, better we get used to this,” he gestured to the teen on the floor, “now rather than later.”</p><p>The look of relief that crossed the teen’s face was, objectively, hilarious, and it faded just as quickly as it came when he directed his anger towards his friend on the floor.</p><p>All before he could lay into him in front of them, Aoba Johsai’s head coach called out across the gym and the first year cluster, hand cupped around his mouth as he yelled.</p><p>“First years, over here! We’re gonna be moving to Gym 2 for our tryouts!”</p><p>Oikawa shot up immediately, one hand wrapping around Iwaizumi’s shoulder while the other tugged at Hanamaki’s sleeve to get them to follow along. </p><p>“C’mon Iwa-chan, Makki-Makki, Mattsun, let’s line up! Maybe we can be put on the same practice team! Better to be in-sync sooner rather than later!"</p><p>Issei’s frown deepened as he followed behind the pair being dragged off by Oikawa Tooru.</p><p>Hanamaki threw a smirk over his shoulder at him.</p><p>He hoped the nicknames wouldn’t stick. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The nicknames stuck.</p><p>After a week of use, Issei didn’t particularly hate them.</p><p>Hanamaki - <em> Makki </em> - loved them.</p><p>So Issei couldn’t really be upset about it. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>High School taught Issei many things.</p><p>First year <em> alone </em> was a time of discovery in a few different ways.</p><p>Oikawa Tooru was a very popular person, on and off the court. But that wasn’t anything new to Issei, not when even <em> he </em> could admit that the setter won the genetic lottery. Tall, smart, unfortunately good-looking, it made sense as to why most of the girls in their grade became somewhat infatuated with their rising star setter.</p><p>But what people didn’t realise was that Oikawa was self destructive, driven to be better than Shiratorizawa’s Ushijima, or the mysterious ‘Tobio-chan’ he and Iwaizumi left behind at Kitagawa Daiichi. And that the confidence he exuded was a guise for the deep insecurity he had about being better than he was yesterday. Oikawa paraded around, acting as though things were okay, but Issei knew that the pride the setter held in himself would make or break him.</p><p>At first, Issei assumed it would have been ‘break’. </p><p>But that would be downplaying the determination that coursed through the teen’s veins. </p><p>Oikawa messed up his knee in a practice match a month out from the Spring Tournament and still somehow found the strength to keep up with training<em> and </em> compete in the Miyagi Preliminaries.</p><p>Even if they hadn’t won against Shiratorizawa, it was still enough of an impressive feat for Issei to let the whole ‘Mattsun’ nickname thing slide.</p><p>But the respect faded when Oikawa came to school the next day in crutches, promptly making every girl in Aoba Johsai fawn over their poor injured Oikawa.</p><p>Iwaizumi Hajime, despite not seeming bothered, was <em> definitely </em> bothered that a ‘shitty guy’ like Oikawa was getting <em> that </em> much attention from girls.</p><p>Issei assumed that it was less about girls giving Oikawa attention and more the fact that Oikawa couldn't separate himself from the crowds who came to visit, making it cut into practice time. Iwaizumi was, from what Issei understood, a no nonsense person. He had his eyes on a goal, just like Oikawa did, and knew what needed to be done to get there. </p><p>And he was attentive. Hyper receptive. Even if he was a walking personification of a cactus. He was always the first one of the group to call them out on whatever 'bullshit' they were pulling. For Oikawa, it was his health and, eventually, his knee. For Issei, it was homework and having a proper sleep schedule. For Makki-</p><p>Makki was a different story; one that Issei needed to confirm with Iwaizumi to ensure he wasn't misinterpreting anything. </p><p>As the months went on, Makki seemed <em> off </em>. Nothing extreme. A little skittish here and there, maybe slightly more reserved than what Issei was used to seeing. Makki was cautious with how he moved, what he said. He was first in and out of the club room, and often met up with their group just as they were about to head off from the bus stop in front of the school. </p><p>Every time he inquired, Makki brushed it off with his usual smile. A part of Issei thought that maybe, just <em> maybe </em> he was over-thinking things. It was their first year in a new school, in a whole new <em> environment </em>, with dumb high school dynamics and new expectations and pressure. Of course he'd be a little more withdrawn, that was a common reaction. </p><p>And while it did make him feel vaguely relaxed - the nagging thought in the back of his mind that Makki was outgrowing him and the new (unexpected) group of friends they shared made him uncomfortable. </p><p>All this understanding, and Issei still couldn't help but let his gaze linger in concern. </p><p>But when Iwaizumi cornered him in the library during one lunch break towards the end of the year, Issei knew that he hadn't imagined the strangeness of Makki's behaviour. </p><p>"S'Makki alright?" </p><p>Issei looked at the shorter teen from the corner of his eye before he looked back to the shelves they were in front of. "Not sure. He said he's fine." </p><p>The spiker nodded, unfolding his arms as he processed the response. "Yeah… Do you believe him?" </p><p>He sighed. "Not anymore." </p><p>Iwaizumi didn't say much, and instead clapped the taller teen on the back before he ducked into the next aisle, grumbling about the reference book he needed to find for his history essay. </p><p>With the simple touch of his hand on his back, Issei felt his body grow limp - just ever so slightly. </p><p>Things would be easier if Iwaizumi was keeping watch as well. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It took one stray serve for things to change.</p><p>The start of their second year brought it with an opportunity to prove himself as a starting player. Makki and Iwaizumi were also given a chance. Oikawa was always a given.</p><p>(Like Mizoguchi would be stupid enough to withhold the guy from playing anymore than he didn in their first year.) </p><p>It was a mock game, the first one of the year, being held while their underclassmen were having their tryouts in Gym 2. </p><p>Par for the course. Everyone who was on the team at that point knew of the intensity of Oikawa Tooru's serve. It was a force to be reckoned with and without practice, was a pain to receive. </p><p>It was also, quite literally, a pain if you were hit in the face. </p><p>Time slowed to a crawl as the ball Oikawa served soared over the opposite side of the court, over the net, over Issei's side of the court-</p><p>And connected directly with Makki's nose as he walked along the back wall from the direction of the toilets. </p><p>The sound of leather impacting on skin echoed around them, harmonising with the yelp of pain from Makki as he hunched over and turned to face the wall. The spiker slapped one hand against the wall to brace himself, the other cupped around his nose and mouth as he hissed out a string of loose curses. </p><p>Issei moved first, legs taking him around Makki's right side before he tried to get a look at his friend's face. He could hear Iwaizumi's reprimand towards Oikawa, and the groans of sympathy from the rest of their teammates. Instinctively, Issei reached for the hand clamped around the lower half of Makki's face, mumbling a "Sorry" as he went to inspect the damage. </p><p>But the world died down when Issei's gaze settled on Makki's face, the bright red that flared in his cheeks and matched the flow of blood pooling from his nostrils, down his chin and into-</p><p>Issei stopped, felt his eyes go wide as he stared in disbelief and confusion and <em> what the fuck.  </em></p><p>There was a brief moment where Issei wondered if he really <em> did </em> need glasses. </p><p>But there was no mistaking the shards of glass that piled up in the palm of his hand. Red, almost opaque in colour, crystals stared back at him, glinting in the light of the gymnasium, refracting as it passed through the stones and painting the rest of his hand in a pale pink glow. Issei's eyes darted up to the centre of Makki's face, trained on the streams of blood that gushed down his nose, over his lips, and dripped down his chin, all before the droplets hardened and fell, landing amongst the already growing pile of rocks in his hand.</p><p>There was a brief moment of hesitation in Issei's movements, his eyes darting across every part of Makki's face, to the team behind him, and back again, all before Issei slapped his hand under Makki's and brought it back up to hide the the bloody-crystalised mess forming on his face. His right arm wrapped around Makki's shoulders, tugging him in the direction of the hallway. </p><p>"It looks bad-" Issei choked out, sniffing quickly to cover up the way his voice cracked. "I'll take him to the nurse-" </p><p>Makki's hand came up to grab Issei's forearm, nails gripping into the skin as the taller blocker continued to guide him out of the gym. </p><p>"Keep practice going without us, I'll bring him back as soon as he gets an all clear-" </p><p>As they reached the door, Issei turned to look over his shoulder. scanning the faces of his teammates quickly to see if anyone was the wiser. </p><p>Iwaizumi's eyes met his across the court, narrowed in confusion before he gave an almost imperceptible nod in his direction and spun around to slap Oikawa in the stomach-</p><p>
  <em> A distraction.  </em>
</p><p>It was enough to let the pair slip out of the gymnasium and down the hall, Issei dragging Makki along while the latter grumbled something, muffle around their hands and the rocks pressed into his lips. </p><p>Issei slid the door to the infirmary open with his foot, quickly releasing Makki from his grip as he spun around to slam the door shut, locking it as he did. He turned around, scanning the room for anyone who wasn't Makki. </p><p>The nurse wasn't in. </p><p>The nurse was <em> never </em> in. </p><p><em> Thank God they were never in. </em> </p><p>Makki stood over the waste basket, dusting his hands of the crystals that accumulated there. Face flushed, there was a distant look in his eye that Issei was barely able to clock. </p><p>And yet, even if Makki wasn't fully with him in the moment, Issei pressed. </p><p>Because-</p><p>"You're blood just hardened." </p><p>The shorter teen nodded and brushed the tip of his chin with the back of his hand. </p><p>"Yeah." </p><p>“Into crystals.”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>"And like, crazy fast." </p><p>"Mhm." </p><p>More blood red rocks fell on to the floor. Makki crushed them with his shoe as he moved to one of the trolleys to raid it for tissues. </p><p>The residue left behind on the floor was pink. </p><p>"It's-" </p><p>"It'll stop in a second." Makki didn't bother looking back. "You can head back to practice, I'll-" </p><p>"You need to go to a doctor or something Makki!" Issei stepped forward, stepping to Makki's left to try and face him head on. </p><p>Makki's eyes shimmered so slightly, and sweat slid down his temple. </p><p>Only to crawl to a stop and harden before Issei's eyes. </p><p>"I'm <em> fine </em>-" </p><p>"How can you be 'fine'?! Your blood is turning into glass! You're fucking <em> sweat </em>just froze right there! That's not-" </p><p>
  <em> "I know it's not normal!"  </em>
</p><p>Head whipping around to face him, Issei finally got to take in the panic in Makki's demeanour. A few crystals flew from his eyes, scattering off to some corner of the infirmary. </p><p>"I <em> know </em> shit's fucked with me, Mattsun. I know that this shit shouldn’t be happening, that there is no logical explanation for it happening but it <em> is </em> and you’re not helping me by reminding me that I’m not-" He pleaded, <em> begged </em>, voice breaking as the tears welled up in his eyes. Makki blinked them away. Issei swore a teardrop solidified on his eyelash. "You just have to trust me and forget what you saw-"</p><p>"Are you <em> kidding </em> ?” Issei almost growled out. “Your body is doing <em> scientifically impossible </em> things, Makki! I know you’re a private person but this is one o f those times where you have to talk to someone!”</p><p>Makki didn’t grace him with a response.</p><p>Instead he wiped at his face, thoroughly, both hands pawing at his skin. </p><p>The only sign that he had been injured was the flush that sat across his cheekbones and swelled around the bridge of his nose. </p><p>“See.” He wiped his hands on his shorts. “Told you I’d be good as new in a few minutes.”</p><p>Issei floundered, just for a moment. But that one moment was enough to provide Makki an exit. </p><p>"I'm gonna head home. Let the guys know I'll be in for tomorrow's morning practice."</p><p>He reached down with one hand, grabbing a fistful of antiseptic wipes and a few tissues before he used his free hand to push past Issei, making sure to bump shoulders as a sign to stay in place, all before he tore out of the infirmary and back the way they came.</p><p>The blocker stared at the door, all before heaving out the breath he’d forgotten he had inhaled. A moment passed, and Issei looked down to stare at where Makki pushed him. </p><p>Faint pink dust dotted the teal fabric. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They didn’t talk for a week.</p><p>Issei felt his heart sink every time he caught a glimpse of Makki.</p><p>Partially because of the very obvious distance between them.</p><p>Mainly because he could not stop the looming feeling of dread that lingered around his friend and whatever the <em> fuck </em> was going on with his body.</p><p>A lot of changes happened to someone during puberty, <em> sure </em> , but Issei was certain that having your blood crystallise in seconds <em> was not </em> one of those changes.</p><p>The two followed the same game of cat-and-mouse as the week dragged on; Makki came to practice first and was often the first to leave, with a new excuse for each hasty exit while Issei was stuck trying to corner him before the former could actually leave the gym. But to no avail.</p><p>Makki also spent his breaks alone, opting to eat in his classroom rather than out in the courtyard with their friends. Oikawa apologised in the first practice after the incident, and Iwaizumi checked over his nose to make sure it wasn’t actually broken - but the good-will the best friends had was not enough to outweigh the tension that lingered between Issei and Makki. </p><p>And a part of him wanted to just give in and say sorry, but there was a more insecure part of him that decided to stay quiet. There was no guarantee that Makki would give him answers, or even forgive him for being so forward.</p><p>So Issei took to researching by himself, spending evenings and early mornings on his commute to school googling asinine phrases in an attempt to scrounge up something akin to a similar medical condition, or at least scientifically prove that he did in fact see what he saw. </p><p>(<em> bleeding crystals help. blood crystals. blood freezing when i have nosebleed. blood curdling. frozen blood. difference between frozen blood and crystallised blood. how to tell when youre hallucinating. am i going insane </em>)</p><p>But dead ends popped up everywhere he looked.</p><p>And Issei was genuinely certain that he, indeed, hallucinated the entire thing.</p><p>Because if there wasn’t a logical explanation for it then how could it have happened? Everything had a reason - an <em> impetus </em>, if he was going to use fancy scientific terms - so how could he not find anything on what Makki was suffering from?</p><p>“Oi, you spaced out on us.” Iwaizumi grumbled, tapping a book on the back of Issei’s head as he returned to the table group occupied.</p><p>The three of them sat in the library, tucked away in a corner and out of view of Oikawa’s lingering fangirls so the guy could actually make a dent in one of his research assignments. Lunch was ticking away, and Issei hadn’t realised he’d completely lost himself to his thoughts.</p><p>He mumbled out a sorry to the dark-haired spiker as he sat next to Oikawa, but the apology didn’t hit its mark.</p><p>“You sure you don’t wanna apologise to him yet?” Iwaizumi asked, flipping the book open to start reading. “He’d probably forgive you. He forgave Shittykawa for hitting him in the face.”</p><p>“I didn’t <em> mean </em> to hit him!” Oikawa whined quietly, not looking up from the notes he was writing out. “But if you do want to apologise, maybe get Makki-Makki a box of cream puffs. I think that the bakery near the station sells them.”</p><p>“You only wanna go for their milk bread-”</p><p>“I’m trying to <em> help </em>, Iwa-chan-”</p><p>Issei frowned, biting the inside of his cheek while he narrowed his eyes at the pair in front of him. </p><p>There was no way that they would know <em> anything </em> about what he saw that afternoon.</p><p>But it didn’t hurt to ask.</p><p>Even if asking them would vaguely disclose what happened that afternoon. At this point, it didn’t matter if his remaining two friends thought he’d lost his mind - he just needed a new perspective. Or maybe a new observation. Had they seen Makki act weird during practice<em> before </em> the Stray Spike Incident? Had he mentioned anything to them? Had they witnessed Hanamaki Takahiro and His Disappearing Blood Act before and just not mentioned anything?</p><p>It was worth the risk, he thought, and better to exhaust all avenues available to him than to read another goddamn non-fiction book about <em> chemistry </em>.</p><p>“Do you guys know if blood crystallises?”</p><p>“Yes.” Came their simultaneous response. </p><p>“Blood can form crystals if you heat a hemoglobin solution with an acid and, like, salt. Diseased blood hardens faster than healthy blood, but the range varies between a few minutes to a few hours.”</p><p>Issei blinked. “Iwaizumi, how the hell do you know that?”</p><p>He shrugged. “Read an article on it once. Pretty sure it’s in our science textbook as well.”</p><p>“But Mattsun didn’t mean it like that.” Oikawa finally looked up, a glint of understanding in his eyes. “You meant something different than what we meant, right.”</p><p>It wasn’t a question, but a clear observation. </p><p>It was in times like this that Issei remembered how manipulative Oikawa Tooru really was. He knew how people worked, and could get them into any position or play he wanted. He was dangerous, and it was never good being on the receiving end of that all-knowing stare of his.</p><p>He refrained from swallowing the build up of saliva in his throat, ignoring the gaze Iwaizumi had trained on him. “Like, like y’know how if you get a cut, the blood and platelets make a web to form a scab. And a scab is, like, flat, right. Do you think it’s possible for blood to do that, but instead form a firm, round shape <em> outside </em> of the body? With a crystal-like property.”</p><p>They both furrowed their brows, simultaneous, and shook their heads.</p><p>“Nothing in the body would be able to do that.” Iwaizumi murmured. “You could maybe replicate that in a lab, but for it to be like an immune system response? Not likely.”</p><p>Oikawa tapped his pen against the table. “Does it have to be outside the body? Because there are chemicals that can crystallise <em> inside </em> the body. There’s this type of arthritis my grandfather contracted that's caused by calcium pyrophosphate crystallising in the joints-” </p><p>Issei groaned and tilted his head back, one hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Why are you both <em> nerds </em>? I just wanted a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer.”</p><p>“You’re the one who wanted an answer!”</p><p>In the distance, the old librarian <em> shh </em>’d them, making the trio turn and bow their heads in apology before quickly returning to the conversation at hand.</p><p>“Why’re you asking anyway?” Iwaizumi asked, trapping his tongue between the bite of his teeth. “You say weird shit most of the time, but even this is weird for your standards.”</p><p>Oikawa nodded along, steepling his fingers while he tilted his head to the side. Iwaizumi didn’t mirror the expression, but the stoic look he always wore was enough to make Issei ever regret opening his mouth.</p><p>“My cousin sent me this book recommendation, said I’d like it, but I just can’t get into it.” He lied. “It was that book I had in my bag on Wednesday, this science-fiction horror thing.”</p><p>The pair stared at him, gazes unwavering and expressions unchanging. </p><p>Neither of them got a good glimpse of it when he repacked his bag after practice, but the lie was underpinned with the hope that they wouldn’t question him further. </p><p>Iwaizumi all but nodded and returned to his reading all the while Oikawa’s face morphed from that severe look of analysation into one of childish disappointment. “Oh that’s a shame~ Especially if it was recommended to you! But I mean, maybe if you gave it another shot you might enjoy it this time around! Books are like that sometimes, y’know~”</p><p>Issei did nothing to hide the look of displeasure on his face, watching as Oikawa sent him one last knowing look before focusing back on his notes. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Weekend practice always dragged on, but still Issei forced himself to sneak out early so he could beat Makki to the punch in the midst of his own escape. </p><p>And sure enough, five minutes after Issei assumed the position outside of the school gate, Makki rounded the corner, head down as though that would help people avoid looking at him.</p><p>Instead, he just bumped into the person he was avoiding, chests colliding together and startling him attention. Makki's eyes were wide, but Issei spoke first before the spiker could try and leave. </p><p>"Hey, can we talk?" </p><p>"You left practice early." </p><p>Issei nodded. "Had to make sure you didn't run off before me." </p><p>Makki’s lips pulled into a dissatisfied sneer.</p><p>“You weren’t being very discrete.”</p><p>“I was hoping you’d be dumber than normal.”</p><p>He scoffed. “Yeah well, I kept the brain cell when you ditched me.”</p><p>Makki stood silent in front of him, lightly kicking the gravel path they were standing on. Issei could see him weighing out his options in his mind, and for a moment he thought that he would decline the offer and leave him high and dry, ending their friendship in one fell swoop. </p><p>The pale-haired man sighed, shoulders dropping. "You mind if we talk at your place?" </p><p>"No, s' fine." Issei scratched the back of his neck. "You can stay over if you want… My dad is down in Kyoto for work." </p><p>The former nodded, adjusting his bag before stepping in line with Issei, a sign that he should start walking before he changed his mind. Issei gave him a smile - small, thankful. Makki sent one back - exhausted. </p><p>The train trip and walk to the flat Issei and his father lived was long and quiet. Issei stalled for as much time as he could when they ducked into a convenience store for dinner, but nothing could really prolong the talk he knew they needed to have. Issei needed his questions answered and, from the way he seemed to be lost in his thoughts, Makki was mentally preparing himself to disclose said information. </p><p>The latter was still tense in the shoulders and upper back as they finally entered the flat, even as they dropped their bags in Issei’s room and started preparing their ready-to-eat dinners. Issei pulled the <em> kotatsu </em> towards the centre of the small living room and helped deposit the food on to it, quickly switching the TV on while Makki sat opposite him. </p><p>It doesn’t take long for Issei to break first, a little fed up with the awkward tension that hung over them as they ate together. He needed to rip off the bandaid, even if it meant he gave up his plausible deniability.</p><p>His concern outweighed whatever self-preservation he had.</p><p>“So. The blood crystals?”</p><p>“Yeah, about them.” Makki didn’t look at him, keeping his gaze down as he poked at the instant noodles he prepared. "I've got this disease... <em> Ruisekibyou </em>. Essentially any liquid discharge my body creates immediately solidifies once it’s expelled. "</p><p>Issei nodded along, slowly, laying his chopsticks along the diameter of the styrofoam bowl as he forced his full attention onto the teen. "Like, <em> all </em> body fluids?"</p><p>"Mhm. Tears are the most common symptom that you have the disease. And that's, like, the <em> mildest </em> one." Makki scratched at his chin, leaning back with his right hand planted on the <em> tatami </em> beneath him. "Snot, blood, sweat. Brushing my teeth is the biggest fucking hassle too since my saliva mixes with the toothpaste foam and-” Makki shook his head. “Like liquids can crystallise inside the body, this isn’t news to anyone. It’s the fucking fact it happens <em> outside </em> my body, and it happens so <em> quickly </em> , and that it’s fluid that should not be capable of turning into <em> legitimate crystals </em>.”</p><p>Makki slumped against the table, cheek pressed into the cold wood as he watched with curious eyes at the teen opposite him. Issei stared back, letting the information swirl in his mind while he tried to fill in whatever gaps and holes he came across. </p><p>"Rare?" </p><p>"Crazy rare. 1 in 100,000,000 or something crazy stupid. But even if people have it then they tend to keep quiet."</p><p>"How'd you even find this shit out?” Issei asked, exasperated, as he shook his head. “I swear, I looked everywhere online - I even read an actual <em> book </em> cause I thought it would help me.”</p><p>A pause.</p><p>"Fourth page of Google." </p><p>“<em> Fuck off </em>.”</p><p>Makki laughed, one deep from his chest that rumbled with amusement and delight and an <em> ease </em>Issei had not seen in a while, and it made him laugh as well. Though he hadn’t answered the question, it was nice to see him a little more relaxed than he usually was, and maybe Issei could forgive him for that.</p><p>But the amusement faded just as quickly as it came. </p><p>This wasn’t <em> as </em> complex as all of the explanations Oikawa and Iwaizumi gave him, but even he wasn’t too dumb to know the issue with Makki’s circumstances. </p><p>Issei ran his tongue along the top row of his teeth, the corners of his lips that were once quirked upwards quickly falling when he came to a small realisation. </p><p>"There's no cure, is there?" </p><p>Makki sniffed, his smile falling just a little. "Nope."</p><p>"You're gonna die then, right?" </p><p>"I mean, we all die eventually.”</p><p>“<em> Makki </em>-”</p><p>“But I’ve got a shorter clock than you do, yeah.”</p><p>The silence that hung over them was heavy, filled with the dread of Makki's inevitable ending. </p><p>“How long have you known?”</p><p>Makki swallowed, the lump bobbing in his throat.</p><p>“Figured it out a month after I moved here… maybe. I dunno, I tried to forget about it but when you sweat crystals, it gets pretty hard to avoid.”</p><p>Issei’s best friend had an untreatable illness that seemed to have manifested out of nowhere, one that he’d been living with for the better part of three years - all without anyone knowing or figuring out.</p><p><em> Of course </em> it wasn’t as simple as going to a doctor for a diagnosis and confirming the strange rare disease he had. If this was real - if Makki actually contracted an incurable disease - then everything was going to change whether he liked it or not. Whatever life he envisioned or hoped for, gone. </p><p>Issei bit the inside of his cheek.</p><p>“Does anyone else know?”</p><p>A dumb question, yes, but he needed to-</p><p>“No.” Makki answered, voice shaking. “Not even my mum. <em> Fuck </em> , I have no idea how she’ll react.” He rolled his head down, pressing his forehead and nose firmly into the wood as he heaved out a deep, shaky sigh. “How the <em> fuck </em> do you tell your own mother that you think you might be dying? And that you’ve kept it from her for so long? She’s gonna kick my ass and then cry, and then kick my ass <em> again </em>-”</p><p>His voice cracked, left hand rubbing at his throat while his right hand pinched at the muscle of his forearm, leaving deep, red indents in his skin. Makki heaved, shoulders shaking as he tried to calm himself down. </p><p>“M’sorry I didn’t told you.” He whispered, daring not to make eye contact. “I didn’t know how to tell you but I should’ve said <em> something </em>… I just didn’t want you to think I was weird or to feel bad for me or to, fuck, I dunno, give up on me.”</p><p>Issei shuffled over and sat next to him, patting Makki’s shoulder as the spiker took to clasping both hands around his neck.. “You didn’t have to tell me anything, then <em> or </em> now, Makki. You didn’t owe me anything. I’m sorry that I tried pushing you-”</p><p>“I should have told you though!” He groaned, fingers snaking up to grab at the roots of his hair on the nape of his neck. “It would’ve been even shittier if I fucking keeled over and you never knew-”</p><p>It would have been.</p><p>But really, what Issei's feelings mean in the long run?</p><p>Issei hooked an arm around his back, tucking him into his side and shaking his head. “Makki, breathe for me, alright? I forgive you. And I’ve got your back. Always have. It’s why I wanted you to go to a doctor but if not even your mum knows then you have to-”</p><p>“I know…” The spiker exhaled, body shaking as he continued to try and calm his unsteady breaths. “I forgive you.. M’sorry…” He wiped at his eyes with his tracksuit jacket. “I’ll try not to get any crystals on your floor.”</p><p>The taller teen snorted, thumb brushing a circle into the side of Makki’s shoulder. “S’fine, it’ll bring some colour to the house, I guess.”</p><p>Issei stayed seated beside Makki for the rest of the night, holding him close while the latter calmed down. At some point, Makki’s hands removed themselves from his neck and wrapped around the now cold bowl of noodles, fingers poking into the styrofoam. It was only when his breathing returned to the even in-and-out that Makki lifted his head, an almost defeated smile on his face.</p><p>“Mind reheating this for me?”</p><p>Issei pushed at Makki’s head with one hand, rolling his eyes as he watched the spiker’s body roll on to the floor. Makki laughed, but even though Issei felt it was a little hollow, it still felt like a victory in the midst of what felt too similar to a loss.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>That next week, Makki disappeared and only returned on Friday. </p><p>He texted Issei on Monday that his mother knew and that they were going down to Tokyo for an official diagnosis at the request of their doctor in Sendai. From the scant messages he got, Issei assumed that whatever tests they were running were doing a number on his best friend. </p><p>Thursday night, on his way back, Makki called him from the bathroom on the <em> shinkansen </em>. </p><p>The diagnosis confirmed a case of <em> ruisekibyou </em>. </p><p>They gave him another nine years at the most. </p><p>Issei stood by his side when Makki told Oikawa and Iwaizumi on the Friday afternoon after practice, the four of them lingering in a nearby playground as the sun set behind them.</p><p>Makki pulled out a set of pamphlets, generic and printed on flimsy paper, and handed them out with an almost reluctant look. </p><p>(Issei refrained from scrunching it up and throwing it in the bin. Where the <em> fuck </em> was this pamphlet last week when he neede it?)</p><p>He wasn’t sure what reactions they’d get from the pair; the both of them were hard to read on a good day, so with this information and the evidence laid before them</p><p>There wasn't sympathy. Just regret. </p><p>Oikawa pulled Makki into a hug, lightly tapping the bridge of his nose where the bruising still lingered, while Iwaizumi stood to Makki’s left, hand resting between his shoulder blades while the friends hugged it out. </p><p>Issei’s eyes met with Iwaizumi and Oikawa on different instances, both of their gazes conveyed the same thing to him.</p><p>That they wouldn’t let Makki feel alone. That they were glad Issei had been there to find out first. That they were in this together. </p><p>Silent solidarity. Unwavering understanding.</p><p>They chose not to linger any more, mainly because they still had practice the following day and getting up on a weekend was already a hassle. But they walked together to the station together, Oikawa and Makki still wrapped up together while they spoke in soft and hushed tones, while Iwaizumi and Issei trailed behind them,</p><p>Iwaizumi reached over and lightly tapped his fist against Issei’s sternum. </p><p>“Y’know you could’ve mentioned something to us instead of lying about the dumb horror book.” He quipped, eyes darting from Issei to the pair walking ahead of them. Issei shrugged.</p><p>“Didn’t feel right when I didn’t know about the full situation.”</p><p>He sniffed. “Fair. At least he’s got you.”</p><p>When they reached and went their separate ways at the terminal, Makki caught a hold of Issei’s sleeve before he hand the chance to completely walk off. </p><p>“Told my mum I’d be crashing at your place tonight to study.”</p><p>Issei didn't say anything, just pulled an arm over Makki's shoulder as they walked to the platform to catch the train to his house. </p><p>They followed the same routine as the week before, only this time they stayed in Issei’s room since his father was occupying the lounge and resting after a long few weeks of travel. </p><p>"It's <em> weird </em>."</p><p>Makki mumbled as Issei returned from his shower, the former’s hair still damp.</p><p>“What’s up?”</p><p>Makki didn’t look at him, not even as he took a seat next to him on his bed. His hands pinched and fisted at his clothed legs. </p><p>"I'm glad someone knows, right? Like I there’s been this weight that’s been lifted by just knowing I don't have to deal with this alone anymore but I feel like that made it all the more real and I just don't <em> want </em> it to be." He scoffed. “People say denial is always easier but <em> fuck </em> , it’s more than easy. It’s <em> better </em> to pretend.”</p><p>Issei moved, his right hand coming to rest over Makki’s left fist, fingers wrapping around the clenched knuckles.</p><p>“Are you scared?”</p><p><em> Dumb question </em>. </p><p>“Nah.”</p><p>Makki shifted the hand Issei held, letting their hands lock together, palms touching.  </p><p>“I’m fucking <em> terrified </em>.”</p><p>Issei didn’t blame him. <em> He </em> was terrified, and he wasn’t the one with a remaining life expectancy of eight years. He could just barey imagine the running train of thought that ran along the tracks of Makki's mind, and the way they probably wore him down over time. An existence where even the most mundane moments could prove to be a reminder of the fast approaching end.</p><p>He wasn't even sure if 'terrified' was enough of a descriptor.</p><p>“I’m here for you man. Best friends and all that.” He hummed, bumping shoulders with him as a quick reminder. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."</p><p>Makki didn’t respond.</p><p>Not verbally at least.</p><p>But the press of his lips against Issei’s was enough of a confirmation that he had heard him and it still didn’t fucking matter.</p><p>Issei had been kissed before - second year of middle school, behind the clubroom demountables after his team lost against Shiratorizawa Middle School in the Spring Tournament - and while the experience was average at best, he knew that Makki’s kiss was much better.</p><p>None of that bullshit those romantic comedies depicted about electricity or sparks or lightning - Issei just felt <em> right </em> with his lips on Makki’s. Instinctively, their hands moved, Makki resting both hands on Issei’s shoulders while Issei cupped Makki’s cheek with one hand and held him by the waist with the other.</p><p>Issei didn’t think when he felt the press of Makki’s tongue on his bottom lip. Instead he let his mouth open, tongue darting into Makki’s mouth to all but consume him, pressing and feeling it’s way around the curves and contours of his mouth. He could feel the rocks form against his tongue, cutting into his taste buds as Makki’s tongue brushed and massaged against his own.</p><p>He could have kept going forever.</p><p>But the discomfort of the crystals forming inside his mouth was hindering their continuation.</p><p>They pulled apart, the wet string of saliva that hung between their lips hardened before their half closed eyes, all before crumbling as they continued to distance themselves. Makki moved first, retrieving the towel that fell from his head and holding it under Issei’s mouth. Issei responded in kind, coughing out the foggy white crystals into the plush fabric beneath him. </p><p>“Fuck, sorry.” Makki mumbled, a heedy blush forming across his cheeks. “M’getting my crystal shit everywhere again.”</p><p>Issei picked one up between his index finger and thumb, rolling it around before crushing it. It crumbled instantly, turning into a dust that coated his skin and then scattered when he rubbed his fingers together. The residue shimmered in the light of his bedroom. “It’s like glitter.” Issei murmured, almost bemused. "Edward Cullen must be shaking." </p><p>Makki groaned, dropping the towel between them before he rubbed at the hardening spit still lingering around his mouth. . “It sucks. This fucking disesase is the herpes of all diseases.”</p><p>Issei snorted. "I think <em> herpes </em>is the herpes of all diseases, but sure okay." </p><p>“But I’d rather <em> herpes </em> over <em> ruisekibyou </em>. You don’t die from herpes.”</p><p>Makki’s face pinched into a frown.</p><p>“Right?”</p><p>Issei rolled his eyes. “I don’t think herpes could kill you but you shouldn’t want herpes either, Makki.”</p><p>“Lesser of two evils, I suppose.” He murmured, all before moving in again and pressing his lips back onto Issei’s, grinning against them as he purposely swiped his tongue against them, leaving a crumbling trail of crystalline rocks behind it.</p><p>There was a brief surge of annoyance at the sensation of the rocks absorbing the moisture from his lips, but it faded.</p><p>It didn’t mean much when his heart fluttered at feeling Makki’s pulse jump under the touch of his fingers. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Third year was a balancing act.</p><p>Between Oikawa Tooru - whose uncapped ambition and pride and confidence often led to him self-destructing - and Hanamaki Takahiro - a young man suffering at the hands of an incurable, rare disease - the group of friends had their work cut out for them between their mounting desire to <em> finally </em> make it to the National stage and to survive the wringer that was their final high school year. </p><p>Oikawa was chosen as the team captain, with Iwaizumi his vice. </p><p>Issei and Makki were the buffer that existed between the intimidating duo for their new juniors. </p><p>And while they appeared as a well-oiled machine to the onlookers who observed them, therein existed a tension that the four navigated and pointedly ignored for the sake of their personal sanities. </p><p>In the same way the group carried around salonpas and ready-to-use ice packs for Oikawa, they carted with them a concerning amount of tissues and handkerchiefs for Makki. If Iwaizumi wasn’t reprimanding Oikawa to look after himself better, then he was throwing a towel or a jacket or seven over Makki and yelling at him to get cleaned up and stay warm. Issei quickly became accustomed to having a spare shirt for Makki to change into on particularly warmer days. </p><p>But Oikawa’s desires were infectious, and Issei could see a similar hunger for success linger behind Makki’s eyes in the moments of reprieve they had together. And it didn’t help that the more effort Makki put into his performance in the team, the more difficult it became to hide the fact he wasn’t exactly the healthiest person in the gym.</p><p>Iwaizumi reminded him when they found themselves alone in the clubroom of that reality - as if Issei wasn’t inherently aware of that whenever they swapped jerseys or shared towels to dispose of the evidence of Makki’s illness.</p><p>(“We can only pour water over his head to disguise the crystal glitter shit so often, dude.” He jutted his chin out to where Oikawa proceeded to douse Makki profusely with the remnants of his water bottle, calling Yahaba over to ‘Cool down their Makki-Makki paisen~’.)</p><p>But Issei couldn’t bring himself to be Makki’s reminder that he wasn’t <em> well </em>, not when on every other day he could masquerade as someone with perfect health. And that mirth that was in his eyes when he played? Issei didn’t want to be the person to put that weight back on his shoulders - not when the spiker was finally able to forget, even if for a few hours at a time.</p><p>Being blind - being <em> ignorant </em> - brought with it a twisted sense of bliss, one that Makki seemed to be enjoying. </p><p>And frankly, Issei didn’t mind it either.</p><p>Not when all his worries about the future faded by having Makki in his arms late at night. Not when he could see the shorter teen visibly calm by the mere sensation of Issei’s lips against his temple. Not when they could both pretend whatever arrangement they had found themselves in wasn’t being timed by life and fate. </p><p>So despite his own chiding thoughts and Iwaizumi’s pointed concern, Issei let Makki revel in the ‘what if’.</p><p>If they could make it to Nationals, Issei pondered, then perhaps Makki will be satiated. And then things would be easier, and Makki would have no regrets.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They never made it to Nationals.</p><p>And in hindsight, perhaps it was a pipe dream.</p><p>For a brief, selfish moment, Issei thought that maybe things weren’t <em> completely </em> horrible with that outcome.</p><p>Even as he and the rest of the third years on the Seijoh line up cried at Oikawa’s tearful farewell and the loss. Even if Makki took the loss a little harder than the rest of them for reasons the rest of the team would never be privy to.</p><p>But Issei quickly squashed that thought when he and Makki separated from the guys, and had to watch the way he deflated on the way to the station. Issei let himself be tugged along to the Hanamaki residence, quickly sending his father a message to let him know where he’d be.</p><p>Makki’s house was on the small side, and just as quiet as Issei’s was whenever his father was away on business. It was familiar and not particularly unwelcomed, but considering how solemn Makki had gotten after their loss against Karasuno, Issei didn’t really want to leave him where he could ruminate alone in the darkness.</p><p>In the interim of the two getting ready for bed,  Issei finished first and waited for Makki to finish, lounging on the former’s bed as he quickly fired back a reply to his dad. </p><p>(<em> Lost the match to Karasuno. No Nationals for us </em>)</p><p>There was a heavy thud from downstairs, making Issei sit upright in confusion. He stayed quiet for a moment, barely catching the sound of the shower still running from down the hall before he took to investigating. </p><p>Treading carefully down the staircase, Issei was met with the sound of light humming coming from the kitchen.</p><p>Airy.</p><p>Feminine. </p><p>He quickly brushed off his hands on the sweatpants Makki leant him before turning the corner and staring into the kitchen.</p><p>The woman standing there putting away the dishes was tall and slender, with the familiar light brown almost pink hair that Makki had, pulled back into a low bun to complete the business casual attire she wore. Her features were soft, and her skin had a slight undertone of warmth that Makki’s lacked. Her eyes were dark brown and warm, a maternal air about her that Issei had not experienced for most of his life. But there were still more similarities than differences. Issei was sure that if he ever met Makki’s dad, the only thing he would have inherited would have been the height.</p><p>Issei cleared his throat, stepping into view as the woman turned to face him, eyes wide with surprise before they softened, matching the warmth in the brown hues of her irises. </p><p>“You are Takahiro’s friend, yes?”</p><p>Issei bit the inside of his cheek as he nodded. “Yes ma’am. Matsukawa Issei. Makki invited me over to stay the night after today’s game, sorry for the intrusion.”</p><p>The woman grinned and nodded, brushing the stray hairs of her pink-brown hair from her face before she straightened her back out. </p><p>“Thank you for being there for my son when I wasn’t enough.”</p><p>Hanamaki bowed at him from where she stood in the kitchen, making Issei step forward and shake his head, two parts confusion, one part denial.  His voice was caught in his throat as Makki’s mother stood back up, her smile just barely pushing up the apples of her cheeks.</p><p>“When his father passed away, Takahiro became so distant - he used to be <em> such </em> a happy boy - that I was worried. I hoped moving back to Sendai where my side of the family was would do him some good. But to know that you had a hand in helping him heal, I’m so thankful that he was able to have met you on his first day at school. And he told me you were the one who convinced him to tell me, so I’m even <em> more </em> thankful for you.”</p><p>Issei paused, brow furrowed. </p><p>“His dad…?”</p><p>The woman nodded, smile twitching as she remembered. </p><p>“<em> Ruisekibyou </em>. He developed it not long after Takahiro was born, and passed away a year before we moved here.”</p><p>The response died in his throat. </p><p><em> Of course </em> Makki lied about his parents being divorced. Secrets were secrets, after all. </p><p>“Do you think it’s related to Ma-Takahiro's case?” He asked, watching as the eldest Hanamaki sunk in on herself ever so slightly.</p><p>“As much as I wish it weren’t...  There <em>is</em> a theory that <em> ruisekibyou </em> is hereditary, but there have not been enough known cases to investigate. I hoped my Hiro would be safe but with how things have developed...”</p><p>It wouldn’t be incorrect to assume that it was connected. </p><p>Issei swallowed the lump in his throat. “He never mentioned that.”</p><p>Her smile deepened, a little sadder than it was before. “Of course he didn’t.”</p><p>“Oh, Ma. When did you get home?”</p><p>Makki trundled down the stairs, lightly tapping Issei on his lower back as he passed by and entered the kitchen.</p><p>“I thought you would be staying with Suzuki-san tonight?”</p><p>The woman shook her head quick. "I didn't want to impose on her so her husband dropped me off instead. Have you boys eaten? Did you want anything?"</p><p>"We ate with the team after the match." Makki quickly looked over his shoulder to make sure Issei hadn't given off an opposing signal. "We can get out of your hair Ma, you deserve a quiet night to yourself."</p><p>"I wouldn't mind the company Hiro-"</p><p>"Seriously, just get some rest."</p><p>His mother rolled her eyes at him, quickl raising a finger to gesture between the two young men in front of her. "You two better keep it down, the neighbours will get angry."</p><p>Makki moved forward, giving her his on sarcastic roll of the eyes. "Yes, yes, of course."</p><p>Issei didn’t miss the way Makki’s mum grinned at the light press of her son’s lips to her cheek in a "Good night", didn’t miss the quick swipe of her hands to pluck a forming crystal and roll it between her fingers when her son had his back turned to retreat back upstairs. </p><p>The same thing <em>he</em> did with the crystals Makki left on him.</p><p>It made him smile, and when their gazes met Makki's mother gave him a quick wink. </p><p>He bowed again in farewell before trailing behind Makki to his bedroom.</p><p>A part of him wanted to bring up Makki’s father, but he decided against it. </p><p>Even if it was a case of hereditary contraction, it didn't matter if Makki didn't want to talk about it. And Issei had learnt the hard way that he needed prode, and instead wait for answers to come to him</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Makki’s mum passed away two months later. </p><p>No <em> ruisekibyou </em>.</p><p>Heart attack.</p><p>(“It may as well have been the same thing.” Makki lamented, crystal eyed after Issei caught a taxi to the former’s house not long after he heard the news.)</p><p>Issei stood beside him, arm wrapped around his shoulder as they stood in front of her coffin at the wake. The smiling image of the woman he met not so long ago looking down at them. Issei’s father was somewhere in the group of people at the wake, having already offered his condolences and a warm invitation to the pale-haired teen into their home. </p><p>He went home with them that night.</p><p>Issei’s father grinned and clapped him on the shoulder as he led the teens to the car. “You’re always welcome here, Takahiro,” the lilt to his voice made Issei frown ever so slightly, “it’s nice to have two sons in the house.”</p><p>Issei reached around and pinched the back of his father’s neck.</p><p>Makki’s lips twitched into a smile, for the first time in almost an entire week. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>With the closing of their graduation ceremony, the graduating class was alive with energy as they tried to figure out where their now ex-classmates were off to with their newfound freedom. In particular, </p><p>Oikawa was set for Argentina. He was talented enough for it - even in the rest of Japan never truly got to see him in action - but the timetable was pushed forward. He was set on naturalisation, on renewing his reputation and being the best on a much grander stage.</p><p>Iwaizumi would be making his way to the US to continue his studies. Plans smaller than Oikawa’s grand ones, but valid plans all the same. It was very ‘Iwaizumi’ of him to go to California, of all places, even if his own reasons to study under Utsui Takashi were legitimate. </p><p>Issei had work lined up from a relative, and decided to stay in Sendai.</p><p>Makki decided to leave for Tokyo and gave no legitimate reason to those who inquired. By the end of the afternoon, his default response fell along the lines of “I’m training to become a secret intelligence officer, but don’t tell anyone.”</p><p>Issei knew better.</p><p>Any clinical study of <em> ruisekibyou </em> was rarer than the disease itself. And with a confirmed (seemingly hereditary) case in the Hanamaki family, it would be a waste if he did not go to contribute. And without any close family keeping him in Sendai, it would make sense to go back and risk it all for research. </p><p>Makki bounced back after his mother’s passing, whether that be a combination of getting to stay with the Matsukawas or the revelation that he would be able to contribute to finding answers to his illness Issei couldn’t tell. But whatever it was, it did enough to make his pood peak before the inevitable good-byes the four would have to share. </p><p>Case in point, the following weekend.</p><p>The four of them met up for one last time before their prospective paths caught up with them. They camped out at Iwaizumi’s house, hidden behind his bedroom door with snacks and a dozen cans of beer that they bought from a vending machine on the way over to help ease the farewells that would surely come by the end of the night.</p><p>“You’ve got a job in a funeral home, right?” Iwaizumi asked, tapping the can on the table and pointing at the blocker. </p><p>Issei hummed. “My uncle works there and he put in a good word for me. Got interviewed last week and they liked me, said they were willing to put me on the payroll after I finished my training in the summer.”</p><p>“Nepotism.” Iwaizumi angled a half-hearted kick to his shin. “Lucky bastard.”</p><p>“How lucky can he be?” Makki hummed behind his drink, “Of all the taboo jobs, modern day grim reaper is the one that he gets.”</p><p>“I don’t think he’s the one doing the killing.” Oikawa mumbled, more to himself than anything.</p><p>“He’s already dating a dead man, like he can get any dirtier.” </p><p>There was a moment of tension in the air, all before Oikawa reached out and slapped his hand on Iwaizumi’s face, throwing his body on top of him, knocking the can out the former’s grip in the process.</p><p>“How <em> mean </em> Iwa-chan~” Oikawa whined, wrestling Iwaizumi to rest flat on his back and pushing the teen’s cheeks together into an exaggerated pout. “Say you’re sorry to the poor hopeless gays-”</p><p>“But it’s true-!”</p><p>“Doesn’t mean you can say it! Drunk Iwa-chan really has no tact~ We’ll have to cut you off-”</p><p>Makki slumped against his side, head resting on his shoulder as he stared at the scene unfolding before them. By that point, Oikawa had both his hands against Iwaizumi’s cheeks, pushing and pulling at them to mouth along to the syllables he was sounding out.</p><p>Issei pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth, angling his head to get a proper look at him. Makki looked back up, answering the silent question on his lips.</p><p>“Better to laugh at it than to be afraid.”</p><p>He frowned.</p><p>“But if you're not ready to laugh at it, then why should we?”</p><p>Makki shrugged, “You guys are experiencing this as much as I am. Isn't it fair?"</p><p>Issei didn't reply, simply lifting his drink to take a slow sip.</p><p>The only way the situation could be 'fair' would be if Makki wasn't suffering from a disease that turns you into a living rock from the inside out. Being 'fair' meant resetting the timer counting down the seconds from when it would all be over.</p><p>Their definitions of 'fair' clearly were not the same. </p><p>Makki squeezed Issei's thigh, the tips of his fingers working a small bruise from the hold. "I'm <em>fine</em>."</p><p>The last time he said that Issei didn't listen, and they didn't talk to each other for a week. </p><p>So Issei clinked his drink against the one Makki held, all before he uncrossed his legs and kicked one of them out towards Iwaizumi’s shoulder. It didn’t deter them from continuing their half-hearted fight. </p><p>But Makki laughed, and it was something else in the long list of distractions Issei was ready to provide him.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>As the months passed on, everyone began leaving.</p><p>Oikawa had flown out to Argentina on the tail-end of spring, gaze reinvigorated at the adventure laying out before him.</p><p>Iwaizumi flew out to California during the first month of summer, wanting to get settled into a routine while at the University of Irvine before the culture shock truly hit him.</p><p>Makki was the last to leave him.</p><p>He told him that it was because Tokyo University didn’t need him to come down until they gave him the go ahead.</p><p>Issei couldn’t help but think that <em> maybe </em> he had developed cold feet.</p><p>He didn’t blame him. </p><p>Being nineteen and getting ready to give away your body to the research of the disease slowly killing you was nothing if not terrifying.</p><p>So he indulged in the maybe-may-not-be lie and spent whatever free time he had between his work training withMakki. </p><p><em>Dates</em>.</p><p>That’s what Oikawa replied with whenever one of them posted a photo of them.</p><p>Issei wasn’t inclined to disagree.</p><p>Not when they held hands and tucked them under the hem of Issei’s jacket, palms trapping the sweat crystals forming from Makki’s hand. Not when they both returned to the same bedroom and exchanged their own bare minimum intimacy in lieu of anything more socially substantial. Not when Matsukawa Issei was steadily becoming certain that the burbling in his stomach wasn't gas, but something else.</p><p>A glimpse of their slice of domesticity.</p><p>He loved every moment of it.</p><p>It made the selfishness Issei loved <em>so much</em> rear its heas and bare its fangs at them.</p><p>Because on the one hand, Issei understood that Makki leaving for Tokyo was in his own best interest. Makki could have some semblance of <em>agency</em> back in his life thanks to the research he was submitting himself to. The desire to know - to obtain answers at <em>some point</em> in the remaining time he had left outweighed whatever distractions he originally wanted to pursue.</p><p>But on the other hand, Issei didn't <em>want </em>Makki to go. Not when he'd gotten so used to having him by his side. Not when there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that argued Makki wished he didn't have to go either. That the patient in question was already having his doubts about the path he was following. </p><p>So come the morning of Makki's depature, Issei wasn't too sure what to expect.</p><p>Sendai Station was empty for 7am, which made the concept of their farewell a little easier to follow through with. They stood alone in the terminal, Makki’s suitcase at his side while the rest of his belongings had been brought down by the movers the day before. </p><p>“You can break up with me if you want.”</p><p>Issei frowned as the words brought him out of his stupor.</p><p><em>That</em> hadn't been an option. </p><p>“Why the <em> fuck </em> would I do that?”</p><p>“Long distance-”</p><p>“Means nothing when the <em> shinkansen </em> takes less than two hours.” Issei countered quickly, feeling the frown form on his face. “Just say you wanna get rid of me, I won’t be mad.”</p><p>“I don’t want to get rid of you."</p><p>“Then don’t say shit you don’t mean.” Issei swept one of Hiro’s hands into his slightly larger one, squeezing the flesh as he stared down at him. “I’ve gotten <em> too good </em> at removing these dumb crystals from my mouth without a break. Where could you possibly find you another man like me? I’m the whole package. Cute, stupid, soon-to-be a dirty funerary worker.”</p><p>"Can you tak this seriously?"</p><p>"I'll take this seriously when you actually <em>mean it</em>."</p><p>Makki didn't say anything, instead he tried to slide his hand out of Issei's grip. It only made him hold on tighter.</p><p>In the shadows in his eyes, Issei finally caught wind of the problem.</p><p>(He wsa going to <em>kill</em> Oikawa and his contagious self-destruct sequence.)</p><p>"The real question is whether or not you want to go down there and follow through." Issei said. He watched as Makki's eyes widened a little larger than he'd ever seen before. "You can stay here with me, get yourself a decent paying job, and work a little before your clock runs out. That's fine. No one would blame you for wanting to take that route. <em>Or</em> you can go to Tokyo, take part in this research trial and maybe get a step closer to finding out what's really been the cause of your grief. I'm supporting you, no matter what."</p><p>Issei stepped forward a little, letting their joined hands get sandwiched between their thighs as he leant in.</p><p>“We’re in this together. Since we were seventeen, we’ve been in this together. I’m not giving up on you yet, Takahiro. You’ve got me for forever.”</p><p>Makki - <em> Hiro </em> - blinked, eyes wide. </p><p>Issei felt his heart lurch into his throat at the silence that dragged on. He searched in the dark pupils for a sign, for anything other than trepidation that was so clear on his face and in his demeanor concerning the next part of his life. Had he overstepped? Was it too soon? Could it be ‘too soon’ when they were teetering over the edge of four years-</p><p>Hiro’s free hand gripped the front of Issei’s shirt and pulled him down towards him-</p><p>Only to lick a stripe up the side of his face, from the bottom of his chin to the edge of his temple. Not a second later did the crystals start to form, forcing Issei to break away so he could sweep the still forming stripe into his hand.</p><p>“The <em> fuck </em>-”</p><p>“Consider it the downpayment till the next time I can come home and visit.” He grinned, reaching down for the handles of his suitcases. </p><p>He was going. </p><p>His heart lurched for a moment, all before it faded when he caught wind of the emerging confidence in Hiro's appearance.</p><p>Issei crushed the crystals in his hand, nails digging into the dust that coated his palm. He lifted his hand up towards his mouth, blowing lightly so the glitter scattered into the air between them.</p><p>“I’m giving you six months to settle in before I go down there and come get you myself.” Hiro sent back his own impish grin.</p><p>“We’ll see.”</p><p>And then he was walking away, slowly, still facing towards him before he neared the turnstile gates and had to turn around. Issei’s eyes didn’t leave his figure until he disappeared up to the <em> shinkansen </em> platform. </p><p>Issei lingered there, pushing the hand covered in glitter deep into his pants pocket, letting the seconds tick on before he felt comfortable enough to turn around and leave. </p><p>Slowly. </p><p>Just in case Hiro changed his mind and came back to him.</p><p>But he didn't.</p><p>And Issei wasn't sure if he was proud or not.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Over the course of Hiro’s stay in Tokyo, they mainly talked through video calls, plagued by the unfortunate circumstances of adulthood that meant they (namely, Issei) never had any time to catch up. But every three months, Hiro brought himself up to Sendai for their promised time together for a week, just to spend time with him.</p><p>Issei knew it was hard for the man to find the motivation to come home, especially with how invasive and taxing the research had gotten on his body. Even calling and talking on the phone often became too much for Hiro; he couldn’t fault him for it. </p><p>In the end Issei didn’t give a shit as to how infrequent his trips could become. All that mattered to him was having Takahiro <em> back </em>, to be able to make well on his promise from when he left. </p><p>But he’d make it work - Issei would <em> make </em> it work for Hanamaki Takahiro. He deserved the world, he deserved a life <em> beyond </em> the expiration date he’d been given five years ago. </p><p>As time ticked on, however, Issei was involuntarily reminded of the sand running out in Hiro’s clock.</p><p>Issei supposed it was a hard to avoid concept when every visit, Takahiro looked a little more weathered and weary than the time before it. </p><p>Though Hiro ran a little colder than the average person already, some of his recent ventures up to Miyagi showed him with skin a little colder than ice. His skin steadily lost its colour as well. On some days in the midst of his visits, Makki's skin would start as an eerie yellow-white, sparking a distant memory from Issei's youth, all before mellowing back out to its almost translucent colour. His hair, though longer than what it was during his school days, was thinning, only noticeable when Issei ran his fingers through it. Not to mention he was a little stiffer, he woke up with a creak in his bones and felt phantom aches in his joints.</p><p>The only time Takahiro returned to his familiar visage was when he laughed. </p><p>And <em>god,</em> while Issei loved it when Hiro laughed, the discomfort her felt in his chest whenever he compared the flushed face of amusment to the steady norm that staked its claim into their daily lives tripled in size. </p><p>The <em>ruisekibyou</em> was finally catching up with him.</p><p>The worst case scenario with no big advancements in the research they were conducting.</p><p>Issei didn't have a course of action concerning the conversation he knew they needed to have. An eerie sense of devja vu washing over him as he went over the lines in his head. </p><p>It happened on Hiro's final night in Sendai, mid-stroll around the park new Issei's new apartment. </p><p>"Gotta give you something." Issei murmured, squeezing the hand he held to signal Makki to pause. The short man followed suit, turning to face him with curious eyes. Above him the moon, a silver halo to compliment his silvery, almost opalescent sheen caused by the crystal remnant he'd formed from their work. Issei reached out with one hand, quickly brushing away the bumps on his skin while the other reached inside his jacket and pulled the gift out.</p><p>Issei placed it into Hiro's awaiting hands, closing the slender fingers over it as he stepped a little bit closer. "Open it." He said, softly, simply watching. </p><p>Hesitant and with shaky hands, Hiro complied. He untied the ribbon that kept the lid firmly on the box, cradling the entire thing in one hand while the other came up to pluck the lid off. </p><p>Inside, a band of gleaming silver stared back at him, glinting in the moonlight. Thick in width and rounded at the edges, Hiro's eyes darted from the band to Issei to the band and back again.</p><p>A brief moment of repose.</p><p>“Is this…”</p><p>“When you come down next time, we’ll go to town hall and get you signed to the Matsukawa family registry.” Issei murmured, pressing his forehead against the crown of Hiro’s head. "Dad'll probably be out on business again but I think I could get a few relatives to be witnesses in his place."</p><p>He felt Hiro’s shoulders tense in hesitation.</p><p>“You don’t have to wear it.” Issei said, pulling back to look down at him. “But it’s been a <em>while</em>... Why not, y’know? What do we have to lose, right?”</p><p>A tear spilled over the edge of his eye and stilled as soon as it left the tearduct. Issei wiped it away. He hadn't seen that happen before.</p><p>“I want to be with you <em> so much </em>.” Hiro started, voice cracking. Issei nodded. </p><p>“Nothing’s stopping you.”</p><p>"You've noticed right. You're an idiot, but you aren't <em>stupid</em>." He whispered, desperately trying to keep his breathing steady. Another stray tear. It paused at the bridge of his nose. “Don’t you think you deserve more than a walking corpse?”</p><p>Issei shook his head, fighting down the frustration burbling in his throat. “I don't deserve much of anything. But what I <em>want</em> is you.”</p><p>He reached up and plucked the newly formed crystal, crushing it in between his thumb and finger before scattering the residue.</p><p>"It's always been you Takahiro, <em>always</em>. Nothing else feels right if it's not you - dumb Edward Cullen glitter crystals and all."</p><p>The wind whipped up around them, carrassing the bare skin it could touch and forcing them closer together. A few specks of silver reflected the moon above them before dissipating into the air as though they were never there. </p><p>“Forever, right?”</p><p>Hiro’s pupils shook as he stared into Issei’s eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. His voice hoarse, strained, <em>tired</em>.</p><p>Issei bent down slightly, the tip of his nose brushing against Hiro’s. He never looked away. "You've got me." </p><p>Hiro wound his hands around Issei’s, lifting them up to place a tender kiss across his bare knuckles.</p><p>“My next trip down.” He murmured, dropping their joined hands in favour of brushing his lips against Issei’s. “The first thing we do once I get off the train is go straight to town hall and get the documents signed.”</p><p>Issei met him halfway, lips pressing their own affirmation before delving into the kiss.</p><p>The next trip would be the one where everything fit into place. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Hanamaki Takahiro exits his life at 26.</p><p>A month before he was meant to go back to Sendai.</p><p>Right on the cusp of his nine year expiration date. </p><p>He got the call the afternoon of and what followed was a sombre conversation with Takahiro’s paternal aunt, who spoke in a rueful voice, teetering the very thin line between disbelief and devastated.</p><p>They were meant to go grocery shopping. She found him collapsed on the floor of his room, unresponsive and unbelievably pale. A littering of glittery, foggy yellow-white crystals were scattered next to him on the floor.</p><p>Gone before he ever had a chance to get help. </p><p>Alone. </p><p>There’s a regret in the way the woman spoke to him, an apologetic plea of forgiveness - as if <em> she </em> was the one who did this to Takahiro, as if she was the reason for the suffering he faced.</p><p>But Issei thanks her for the call, and accepts her apology for the late notice, even when the only thing he wants to do is break down and try and soothe the emptiness and pain that surges wildly in his veins. </p><p>And as the silence surrounds him again, Issei is left with the dread of “What next”.</p><p>He calls Iwaizumi first - the spiker is a little easier to get in touch with, all things considered. And a part of him regrets even being the one to bear the bad news to the other guys so close to the Olympics, but he needs <em> someone </em> else to know. When he answers, it doesn’t take long for him to pick up on the strain in Issei’s composure. Issei doesn’t need to say anything really, not when the athletic trainer was always quick to put two and two together. </p><p>He leaves Oikawa a voicemail. It’s some ungodly hour of the morning in Argentina, and Issei doesn’t have the strength to stay up any longer and call late in the middle of the night to pass the message on. </p><p>But Oikawa comes home five days later, appearing on Issei’s doorstep early one morning and ambushing him with a hug from the moment the door opens.</p><p>“Are you doing alright?”</p><p>“I didn’t think you’d make it out.” Issei admits, maneuvering the Olympic hopeful inside the apartment along with the small suitcase he’d brought along. He feels Oikawa shrug against him.</p><p>“Blanco’s youngest son contracted <em> ruisekibyou </em> a few years ago.” </p><p>It’s really the only explanation Issei needs, and the pain blossoms again, a little stronger than before. </p><p>And there really isn’t time to press for anything else when Oikawa, in all his usual demanding glory, is pressing for his own answers. Granted, Issei’s original message hadn’t been very detailed, the setter could have gotten the same information from Iwaizumi if he so chose to. </p><p>There’s a pain on his face as they speak and settle inside his apartment. But that pain morphs into what Issei can only assume is sympathy when Oikawa looks at him.</p><p>Issei isn’t ready for the rest of the world to look at him like that. Not when he doesn’t deserve the sorrow that should be going to the man who needs it more. </p><p>But he takes it in stride, and let’s Oikawa distract him from reality with the stories he was going to tell them all after the Olympics in the summertime. </p><p>And for a moment he does forget. </p><p>Even if the hand holding his is a little warmer than what he’s used to, a little drier than the one he wishes he was holding. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The funeral is in Tokyo.</p><p>Issei doesn’t know if it was better this way; for him to have had no part in the funeral preparations - both as unofficial life partner and as a funerary worker.</p><p>There were moments when he worked  in the lead up to the wake that the thought came to him. That<em> maybe </em> if he were to be the one handling Takahiro’s affairs and his burial, then Issei would be able to gain some modicum of peace in his mourning.</p><p>But now, staring at the casket - at the photo of Takahiro grinning down on him - Issei knew that nothing would have comforted him.</p><p>No matter how much control he held over everything, he would still be crumbling from the inside out. </p><p>Oikawa holds his hand throughout the wake and ceremony. Iwaizumi has his arm around his shoulders.</p><p>Even as they are ushered away so that Takahiro’s immediate family can say their private goodbyes before he is cremated.</p><p>Hiro’s aunt greets him quickly, wrapping him up in her arms into a weak hug, all before slipping a small, fabric bag into his hands. A brief bow is exchanged between them before she walks alongside her daughter - Hiro’s cousin - towards the front of the casket display.</p><p>Issei doesn’t need to look inside to know what’s inside it. </p><p>As the wake ends and the guests begin to disperse, Iwaizumi is the one to grab him by the collar of his suit and drag him into one of the bathrooms, throwing Oikawa in alongside him before he follows inside and locks the door. The lights flicker on, revealing the small sink, the mirror, and the toilet tucked into the corner of the tiny room.</p><p>“Let it out.” He says, voice cracking. </p><p>And though it comes out as a demand, Issei <em> knows </em> that is more of an offer; a chance for him to finally grieve publicly for the man he loves.</p><p>So he does. </p><p>Unashamed.</p><p>(He could never feel ashamed when it came to Hanamaki Takahiro.)</p><p>He crumples to the floor, forehead resting on his knees while he pulls at the roots of his hair. The first few breaths are shaky, uneven, all before the dam breaks and the tears spill out and stain the fabric of his pants. There’s a spike of pain in his chest, as if to remind him that it had always been there, even when he wanted to pretend he was fine.</p><p>But that reminder gives way to the guilt. What right does he have to cry so freely when Hanamaki Takahiro couldn’t do the same lest he want to deal with more crystal tears, to deal with that poignant reminder that he was always running out of time. What right does he have when he couldn’t keep any of his promises, couldn’t give the dead man anything he actually <em> wanted </em> in what little remained of his life?</p><p>It’s Oikawa’s hands that pull at him, tucking Issei in his ball against his chest to soothe him. The uneven rise and fall of his chest is enough to signal that he’s finally let go too. They sit together, huddled against the wall opposite the toilet, and sob, because what <em> else </em> was there to do? </p><p>He feels the tears seep through his hair and dampen the crown of his head, but it’s not enough to distract him from the way his own body shakes and heaves and almost <em> wretches </em> and the silent sobs he huffs out. </p><p>Issei gulps for air, even as Oikawa holds him tight to his chest in an attempt to ground him, but it’s not enough. </p><p>In the midst of it all, he can feel Iwaizumi sitting on the other side of Oikawa, can feel the trainer’s hand hold on to Issei’s bicep as he squeezes - his own sign of silent anguish at the circumstances before them. </p><p>There’s shifting, Oikawa no longer leaning on the wall and instead on to Iwaizumi, who sits with a jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth are creaking against each other.</p><p>The blood thunders in his eardrums as he heaves, as his body chokes on air that he’s forcing into his lungs, but it isn’t loud enough to wash over the tender “I love you” that Iwaizumi whispers to the man they are sandwiching. </p><p>He pretends not to hear it, but it becomes harder for him to ignore when he can hear Oikawa’s reciprocate with his own tender kiss, his own type of desperate distraction to the pain he must be feeling.</p><p>And while a part of him wants to be angry, Issei can’t bring himself to be. </p><p>He can’t blame them. </p><p>He <em> doesn’t </em> blame them. </p><p>If anything, Issei is <em> proud </em> that they finally made their move. </p><p>Because at least those idiots aren’t making the same mistake he made. </p><p>And it’s better if <em> someone </em> in their dumb group can actually live without the weight of their regrets.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>There’s no real moment Issei considers to be the ‘end’.</p><p>It could have been the day Takahiro passed away.</p><p>Or the day Makki-Makki bled crystals from his nose in the middle of practice.</p><p>For all he knew, the day they met could have been the end of it all.</p><p>But what Issei <em> does know </em> is that he can only move forward from here.</p><p>Because that’s how life is sometimes. You end up at a dead end and in a place you don’t recognise, alone and afraid. But you have to pick a direction again, and keep moving.</p><p>You can’t stay in one place forever.</p><p>Because forever is, in fact, a really long time. And it was naive of him to think it was ever possible to control.</p><p>He stands from where he is kneeling in front of the Hanamaki family gravestone, eyes trained on the engraved name of his partner.</p><p>Never confirmed.</p><p>Always assumed. </p><p>There’s a moment of hesitation in his breath, a slight shake to his hands as he casts a glance left and right.</p><p>All before he moves forward, pressing his lips to the cold, grey stone. </p><p>The apology dies on Issei’s lips as he pulls away, forcing himself to blink away the tears that threaten to fall and roll down cold cheeks. And instead of saying anything, he lets his fingers run over Takahiro’s kanji one last time before he turns and walks out of the graveyard.</p><p>Matsukawa Issei walks forward, even if forever isn’t an option anymore.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>me, sadly: god, all these new ships in HQ and i still exist in matsuhana hell<br/>me, one hot second later: it could be worse. at least they ✨aren't <i>cousins</i>✨.</p><p> ~~</p><p>thank you so much for reading! this did hurt to write, but i enjoyed experimenting with this AU and this style and form, so i really do hope you enjoyed it!</p><p>come yell at me on <a href="https://twitter.com/waywards_">twitter</a>, im always down for more friends!</p><p>~~<br/>( 05/09/2020) WE HAVE ART!  <a href="https://twitter.com/monsterafeather/status/1295968587836878849?s=20">monsterafeather drew this lovely piece that hurted me so much but its beautiful and you should give them some love, they deserve it!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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